The Actress
by vivalablond
Summary: Everyone else saw her as the Queen, the flirt, the sister...He was, perhaps, the only person who knew about the real Susan's existence.
1. Standing Ovation

Unbeknownst to almost all, Susan had always dreamed of being an actress.

And it was only in Narnia that she got the chance to play her biggest role: Queen of Narnia, crowned to the Radiant Southern Sun.

She played the ravishing coquette, admired by a plentiful amount of suitors from surrounding lands.

She played the fearless warrior, swiftly wielding her precious bow and arrows alongside King Edmund in the heat of oncoming battle.

She played the concerned mother, nurturing the mighty High King Peter back to health after a particularly messy scrape with a haughty prince from a neighboring country.

She played the wise older sister to Queen Lucy the Valiant, making sure to instruct the young monarch on all manners of propriety and ladylike behavior.

But at nightfall, she returned to her chambers and, after a long day, finally took off her mask. Only in the dark of night did she feel comfortable enough to be herself. No characters, no roles. A chance to simply be Susan.

* * *

He was captain of the guard, also entrusted with bodyguard duty to Her Royal Highness, the Gentle Queen.

He was, perhaps, the only person who knew about the real Susan's existence. Everyone else saw her as the Queen, the flirt, the sister...

They did not know the weeping girl who cried behind the closed doors of her bedchamber, longing for another time, another place long ago forgotten, whispering "Mother" and "Father" in-between soft sobs.

They did not know of the frightened damsel who locked herself in her armory, clutching her precious horn, offering imploring prayers up to Aslan to keep her brothers safe while they were away at war.

They did not know the gifted musician with her quick and nimble fingers, artfully plucking the strings of her harp in the open field behind her castle, releasing notes and melodies out into the crisp morning air.

She was the best actress he'd ever seen. At times, he found himself wanting to stand up at the end of an official dignitary meeting or formal banquet and give her a standing ovation. He wondered if she would ever tire of parading her various facades in front of her captivated audience and reveal her real self to the world, once and for all.


	2. Game Changer

At night, she would let her walls down. She grew weary and tired of her act.

All of these men coming and going, playing with her emotions as she toyed with theirs. She liked the attention, relished in it even...

But at the end of the day, she thought about none of them. Not one.

She was caught in a game of superficiality and pride, each nobleman showing off his gold, bragging about his riches, promising her fairy-tales and romances.

Romance. She hadn't yet learned the meaning of the word, didn't quite believe in it's existence, only knew it as another type of weapon.

She'd realized her art for flirtation by accident, never knowing to the full extent what sort of hold she could have on a man's heart.

Playing the temptress was fun at first. She hadn't meant for it to continue as long as it had. But by then, she came to realize the diplomatic advantage she had with this new game she'd created.

Hope was the key. As long as she could keep them hoping and wishing, thinking they could win her over, she had the upper hand.

And so she continued to play the game, day after day.

But one can only keep playing for so long.

* * *

At night, he heard her heart cry.

Stationed outside her doors, his sense of hearing grew exponentially acute. He grew accustomed to seeing with his imagination.

He saw her in his mind's eye, hair wild and black and tangled, spilling over her cream-white shoulders and crimson nightgown. Her crown laid at her feet, knees buckling under the pressures of her world, bent with weariness.

He saw her as the girl she truly was; helpless, but unyielding. Lost, yet determined.

He knew her heart. He knew what it longed for.

Rest.

It was on one particular night that he'd done the unthinkable: he momentarily left his post.

It was his overwhelming concern for her that made him do it. A concern that overpowered his sense of duty, which he found himself failing to keep strong.

He came back with a steaming mug of rosewood tea, sure to put her to sleep, and a blanket made of downy cashmere, a contrast to her usual heavy, woolen bedding.

A soft knock, an unnerving minute of silent anticipation, and the sound of the door opening.

"Yes, what is it?" A timid, watery voice muttered into the darkness. He cleared his dry throat.

"Some things to cure your...insomnia." He replied, keeping his voice quiet. "Your Majesty."

He hoped she could see the items he was holding in the light of the small lantern hanging on the wall, just above his head.

She studied him for a moment, squinting as she waited for her eyesight to adjust. She let out a small sigh as recognition set in and leaned her head against the door frame, a hint of a smile forming in the corners of her trembling lips.

She looked just as he'd imagined her, black tresses in a mess of curls, head bare of her glistening crown, pale thin hands clutching the deep red fabric of her gown- so unlike the glorious picture she was during the day.

"Thank you, that's very considerable of you." She mumbled, reaching out for the soft blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. She took the mug next, breathing in the drowsy scent of the tea.

He watched as she took in the smell, closing her translucent eyelids, and dared to ask the question that was foremost on his mind.

"Is there anything troubling you, Your Highness?" He dropped his voice to a whisper, hoping not to frighten her away.

She looked up at him with an inquisitive stare, not expecting such attentiveness and discernment. He felt immediately outside his boundaries, wondering what in the name of Aslan made him think that a Queen would care to share her deepest thoughts with someone like him.

But he'd only sought to ease her pain...and she could clearly see that.

She hesitated before answering and he could tell she was contemplating giving him a false answer, getting ready to reach for one of her masks.

"I'm afraid so." She finally replied with all sincerity. "But then again, troubles haunt everyone, don't they? Not just monarchs..." Her eyes looked beyond him, into the black abyss of night.

"Anything I can help with?" He justified his offer as part of his duty in serving the queen. But there was nothing he wanted more than just to share her burdens in the hopes of maybe lightening them someday.

His question drew her focus back to him and he noticed a new kind of look on her face, one of astonishment, a raw sort of shock, not the feigned surprise he'd often seen when she was presented with gifts from her suitors.

"You've done enough for one night. You've calmed a restless soul." She offered him a pure smile filled with complete gratitude, free of all teasing and flirtation.

It was with that smile that he realized he was staring at the actress herself, not any of her characters. This was the real Susan.


	3. Getting Burned

_This was starting to get a little out of hand._

She was out in the courtyard, alone with the Telmarine Prince, one of the nobles who'd been desperately vying for her hand. A little too aggressively, she should think.

She'd kept her distance. Acting coy. Playing hard to get. She didn't really like him, was only playing with fire. It was all just fun and games.

Until it wasn't.

Until he grabbed her by the wrists and pressed her against the stone wall.

"Please, sir, this is highly inappropriate." She let out a nervous laugh, her heart beginning to thunder in her chest.

His hold tightened with desire.

"My sweet Queen, I've long since admired you..."

She winced at the hiss of his voice in her ear.

"We need to maintain a sense of propriety." She reminded him, a sweet smile plastered on her face to hide her rising panic.

_Guard. Guard...Where is my guard?_

She'd sent him out to fetch her umbrella, for it was starting to rain, and he still hadn't returned.

The Prince wasn't backing off, though she gently tried to push him away.

"Susan..." His snaky hand slid up her arm, his other around her waist.

The sound of her name, something so intimate and personal, coming from his vile mouth.

Anger started to rise up in her.

A little out of hand...Right. This was getting completely out of control.

"I'm sorry, I have to leave..." She tried to be more forceful, to pull away from him. She had always been rather strong, from years of training and battle. But she couldn't make him budge.

He was inching closer and closer.

All too late, she realized playing with fire was going to get her burned.

She felt a scream bubbling up from inside of her, making it's way up her throat. She opened up her mouth to let it out when-

"Ah, there you are, Your Highness. I have your umbrella, just as you've requested."

* * *

He'd gotten there just in time.

Just in time to place a sturdy grip on the Telmarine's shoulder and purposefully wedge his way in-between them.

"I believe you have overstayed your welcome." He addressed the Prince in a lowered voice. He could feel the Queen slip away from behind, done with her act, stepping off stage, escaping behind the curtain.

The Prince scowled, taking a step back.

"I don't see what the problem-"

"Her majesty is tired and in need of rest." The guard interrupted. He checked to see if she had completely gone, and, seeing that the coast was clear, proceeded to shatter the Prince's jaw with a good uppercut.

The Telmarine flew back, landing hard on the floor, writhing in pain.

"You should think twice before choosing to harass a lady, especially a Queen of Narnia. Pack up your belongings. I shall have you escorted out immediately." He said with deadly calm before stepping away to go find the Queen.


	4. Safe

He found her sitting outside the doors of her bedchamber, her knees curled up, head in her hands.

"Your Highness?" He tentatively called out. "Are you alright?"

A quiet sniffle and suddenly, she was looking up at him. Red eyes. Quivering smile.

"Why, yes. Why shouldn't I be?" A forced laugh.

He squatted down to her level, looking straight into her shaken soul. His gaze told her it was safe now. It was safe to trust him, safe to put away her mask and be her real self.

"I hope you dismissed him." She mumbled, averting his gaze.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"You...you didn't hit him, did you?"

She bit her lip at his hesitation.

"Not too hard." He finally replied.

She stared at her hands, and let out a bitter laugh.

"It was all my fault, honestly. I'm to blame. If it weren't for my behavior towards him these past few days..."

"Your Highness." He stopped her line of thought. "He had no right to do what he did." He told her with all surety, willing for her to believe him and stop all her self-deprecation.

Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"I..." She took in a shaky breath to steady herself. "I feel so absolutely ashamed of myself." She admitted quietly.

He said nothing in reply, but simply stood up, offering her his hand.

She stared at it and grasped it like a lifeline, allowing him to pull her up to her feet.

He waited for her to let go, but, to his rising panic, she didn't, keeping his hand firmly grasped in her own.

"Please...don't ever leave me again. Not even for a moment. I beg you..." Her voice was just above a whisper, eyes laden with fear and anxiety.

He breathed in her proximity, her scent. He couldn't exactly blame the Prince for wanting to get so close to her. But thinking of the vile Telmarine would only make his blood boil. Glancing at their clasped hands, he slowly extricated his hand from hers, leaving her fingers haunted with the warmth of his touch.

"I promise that, henceforth, you will never be alone."

* * *

But she felt more alone now than ever before.

She was tired.

Tired of playing games, tired of the suitors. She needed to escape, needed to get away.

She wanted to see her family. She wanted to see Peter. Peter could always make her feel better.

Besides, she wanted to make sure he wasn't getting himself into any trouble like he usually managed to do.

She resolved to go pay him a visit.


	5. His Favorite Sound

On the first night of their journey, Queen Susan caught a fever.

When he returned from pitching her tent for the night, he immediately took notice of the sweat on her forehead, the trembling of her hands. She sat by the campfire, holding her head as if in pain.

"What is it, Your Highness?" He asked her, kneeling down.

"It's nothing." Her mumbled response as he placed a hand to her red cheek.

"You're heating up." He said worriedly.

"I've been sitting near the fire too long. " She gently tried to push his hand away, trying her best to be reassuring.

He called for the physician, who'd conveniently accompanied them on their trip. The physician gave her a dose of strong medicine that all but knocked her out.

Too weak to walk, she allowed her guard to carry her to her tent.

As he gently laid her head down, she grabbed his arm and told him to stay until she fell asleep.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

* * *

"Sing for me." A simple, sweet command from his Queen.

"What?" It took him a moment to understand what she was requesting.

"My father sang to me when I couldn't sleep."

"Your Highness..."

"I'd love to hear a song."

"But, Your Highness, I might be awful-"

"It's the only thing that will put me to sleep." She looked up at him with resolution and then added a soft, "Please?"

He stared into her pleading eyes, placed a cool hand on her burning forehead, and sighed. He cleared his throat and began by humming quietly, a song from his childhood. His mind traveled back to his home as a young boy, sitting in the kitchen, singing silly songs with his kind mother. He couldn't help smiling as he remembered warm evenings by the fire, singing songs of war with his father. His family had been a musical one. There was always singing in his home, always a song for everything.

The words slowly began to spill out into a whisper-song, caressing the queen into a state of sleepiness. He watched as her eyelids finally closed and her breathing slowed. He lowered his voice and finished his song, thinking she was now asleep, that the medicine was beginning to work. He was ready to get up and leave.

"I think," He heard her mumble drowsily in the darkness. He froze. "I think I like your voice better than any other."

He chuckled quietly, realizing she was probably sleep talking.

"I've decided that you will be singing me to sleep every night." She went on with closed eyes, turning onto her side, placing her hands under her pillow.

"It'd be a pleasure." He whispered after a moment of silence. "...my Queen." He added as he watched her rest, knowing she wouldn't remember any of their strange interaction in the morning. He leaned over to gently touch her soft cheek. Still hot, but a little less than before. The medicine was working.

His fingers lingered on her silky skin a second longer as he thought about how her own voice was his favorite sound in the world.


End file.
